Intermission
by walking primrose
Summary: A loss in contact had spoken volumes for Anna Carlisle, and the static she heard for the last few months had been hard to accept. With the dead roaming around and the loss of hope invading her mind and heart, she made the decision to set out on her own. Except like other survivors, Anna had a conscience. After all, she was partly responsible.
1. The Start

**Intermission **

_Prologue_

Intermission, noun. Definition: a short interval allowing a rest between the acts of a play or parts of a performance; a period during which action temporarily ceases; an interval between periods of activity; an act of intermitting or the state of being intermitted; a period where contact is lost, a 'lapse' in contact; an inadvertent interruption in a broadcast in which there is no sound, a pause in communication.

Intermission; four syllables, twelve letters. An interval, a delay, dead air.

Life had become an intermission of sorts. Contact from other sides were missing, as if misplaced, but there were answers that came with the silence heard. She had known that this would happen when the final decision was made. She expected it, feared it. It had been a huge decision, such a life changing decision that, for Anna Carlisle, was one that was made with a heavy heart. She had told her colleagues that she didn't agree with their thoughts and decisions, that what they were doing was completely immoral and betraying towards all those who were alive. _They had laid their trust in us_, she had said, _and we're stabbing them in the back. _But her words were left hanging, and ignored. She had left work in the evening and walked home, her mind heavy with the images she had seen in the lengthy presentation. The excitement within the room was too hard to watch. She had never seen her colleagues as excited as they were, claiming that it would be best for the city of Atlanta, as well as other cities and countries all around the world, if they went ahead with the decisions and the five year long wait for the confirmation and the testing. It was all ready to go ahead, but like Anna, those that she worked with, the people that she saw every day and spent the majority of her days with, were unprepared for what was in stall for them.

The cure for the common cold, flu. But something had gone wrong. An ingredient had accidentally been added into the serum, and the test subjects were experiencing fever-like symptoms that turned severe, dangerous and life-threatening. Before they knew it - and before Anna could comprehend the situation - the test subjects succumbed to their symptoms. And a short time later, the world as they had known it was no more. The dead had come back to life. How and why, those were the questions that would remain unanswered.

Until now.

* * *

_Author's note: Got this idea after re-watching season one of The Walking Dead and immediately had to write it down. I'm very excited about it, and can't wait for the story to unfold. The prologue is short, and is an insight as to how I imagine the outbreak happened. The show will have relevance in this but I'm going to make it as original as possible. _

_ This is set in season three, right at the beginning, and before the group even knew about Woodbury and the Governor. This will be a Rick/OC fan fiction._

_ Please leave a comment as I'd love to know what you think!_

_Disclaimer: I do not own or hold any rights regarding The Walking Dead including the story lines or characters; living or dead. I do not take credit for this. I have no desire to make a profit from this, and am only doing this as a hobby. I do, however, take credit for my own OC Anna Carlisle, as well as the OC characters that will be appearing in this._


	2. Miles from Home

_Chapter One_

_Miles from Home_

In the months that came after the first initial outbreak, the world was quiet. The inhabitants of the city of Atlanta had dwindled down to almost nothing, with only a handful of survivors that could be accounted for. The Government had done their best to try and stabilise the threat of the enemy, but within the first few days of the epidemic, the army soon realised that the threat was greater than they had originally anticipated and been trained for. The dead were hungry and fresh, and being in the city, they were everywhere. Every direction they turned to, the dead were within reach, clawing and grabbing at the living. It was not a long time before the world became empty of all human existence, with the dead lurking at each corner. Some of the dead were killed and disposed of by the army and the refugee camps in and around the city were moved to the countryside with the assistance of the military. Whilst some made it - with the hope of a new, safer life filling their hearts and becoming a reality - some were, unfortunately, lost in the transition. As the outbreak rolled into its fifth month, all contact was lost and those who were in connection with the Government were left in the loop.

Anna Carlisle was one of those people. Her role as a biomedical scientist for the U.S. army had allowed her to travel the world, supervising and providing consultations with other scientists, administering tests on subjects, managing lab operations and conducting research on new medical tests deemed as important and imperative for the safety of America and the rest of the world. Originally being based in Washington, Anna Carlisle had made the trip to Atlanta just a month before the outbreak occurred to assist with a new test that could have potentially wiped out the common cold and flu. It was a colossal find, one that could shape the future and generations to come. A few of her colleagues had doubts, just like her own, but after the first observation, the test subject began to experience flu-like symptoms, whilst other test subjects immediately felt better. But what every medical professional and biomedical scientist feared had ultimately come true. The test subject's conditions worsened until their life came to an end. And what they did not know was the fact that someone who had access to the labs had added a dangerous and risky compound that would cause disastrous results on the tests, test subjects and the United States in general.

The condition of other countries was unknown, but Anna could only suggest that it had spread like wildfire. The lines of communication were open in the CDC, but no one was picking up on the other end. Her calls were being left unanswered and all that was left was to try and make it out on her own. The base in Washington was unlike the base in Atlanta. Washington had underground facilities where testing was conducted, but it was also the place where the answer, and the cure, was.

When and how she was going to get there was still in the planning. The scientists at Washington would be waiting for her; after all, she had a duty to inform them of the situation, of the loss of the people and their colleagues, as well as the serum and blood samples of those infected.

Anna woke as the sun rose in the distance, and stretched. She was vaguely aware of the cracking of her bones as she moved suddenly, the bones grazing against each other in protest. The night had been long and cold and the thin covering of her sleeping bag only brought her little comfort in the sense that the weather and seasons were changing quicker and faster than she expected them to. The upcoming arrival of autumn was not a welcome one, and could only mean the arrival of winter would soon be behind it. The need for shelter, a more promising and protective shelter was prominent and never far away from her mind; but she'd seen terrible things done by desperate people. She'd seen the extremes of what people would do just to have a roof over their head for the night, or food in the stomachs, or water in their system. She'd seen the survivalist in every single person she had come across, and even though she knew she was one of them, it still scared her to see the extent of harm they would commit just for those little things. Shelter was scarce, food was scarce and water was scarce… all tainted with the thought of death. She had decided not to drink from rivers and streams, unsure as to whether one of the dead - or a straggler, as she'd come to call them - had passed through it.

She rubbed her eyes, and ran a hand through her limp hair feeling the knots and matted hair. The thought of a shower or a nice, long and undisturbed bath was never too far from her mind, and she missed the freedom and safety the old world had brought. As her senses came back to her and the tiredness dissipated, she was able to hear the faint moans of the dead below her. She stole a glance from the roof of the school bus she was currently sitting on, and saw that there was only two stragglers stumbling around below her. It wasn't much of a threat, but the dead were unpredictable. She'd seen many times before when she saw other survivors faced with a handful of stragglers just how it took all of one second for the one straggler to get the upper hand and to wipe out the majority of the group. Anna, despite wanting to help and come to their aid, knew that it was better and safer for her to stand in the shadows.

Like a criminal, she had a price on her head. She held part of the answer in her bag. She needed to survive, and in order to survive, she had to let people die. As morbid as it sounded, Anna had to think of the cure.

She quickly packed up the small amount of belongings that she had, and ate a granola bar. She watched the stragglers as they bumped into one another. They were once a man and a woman - with careers, jobs, families, responsibility… their lives and future in front of them. And yet, here they were, grasping at her feet that dangled off the edge of the old school bus. They were animals, all evidence of human mannerisms diminished and gone.

After finishing her dry granola bar, she opened the hatch on the roof and climbed into the bus. She'd made sure that the doors and windows were locks, and even though spending the night inside the bus was ideal and attractive, she enjoyed sleeping outside. Camping had been one of her favourite things growing up, and the cool air made her sleepy. It was nice being outside, out in the open, with the stars twinkling in the sky above and the bright moon hanging in the sky.

She placed her bag on one of the seats and opened a window, whistling quietly to capture the stragglers attention. They quickly made their way around the large yellow vehicle towards the sound and she pulled out her large knife. Once they were close enough and within stabbing distance, she quickly drove the blade into their heads. The sound of the blade slicing into the mush that was now their brains caused Anna's stomach to churn. If there was anything that she would never get used to, it was that. The sound and the squelching…

Anna shook her head, and wiped her knife on her trouser leg. Her attire was nothing to be desire, whilst she was used to wearing army clothes, it wasn't as ideal as she had originally hoped for. The army trousers were ideal, however, with their tightness and ability to move swiftly and quickly in them. The jacket was ideal for the colder months and during the nights, but she had found a number of articles of clothing in an abandoned vehicle on the highway with neutral coloured jumpers that served their purpose. The boots, which never strayed too far from her feet, were comfortable and practical for the amount of walking she had to do.

The school bus was an ideal temporary home and she had checked the fuel meter as soon as she had come across it the night before, but the meter was empty. Another day of walking was on the agenda, but as long as she followed the map, she would hopefully make a dent in her journey. The journey to Washington was a long one, and the wait for the call in Atlanta didn't help with that. The hope of finding a vehicle was lessening as each day passed, and the rarity of a good, stable vehicle that worked efficiently was increasing as each day passed.

A few hours later, Anna still found herself walking. The roads were empty and walker free, which surprised Anna. Ever since she left the security of the CDC a month ago, she had seen at least a handful of stragglers every day. It was normal to see them, and it wasn't normal when you didn't. That's how the world was now. It was what it had come to. She had tried to prepare herself of when she would come across other living people, other survivors. Would she tell them that she could have the answer to all of this, the cure? Would she keep it from them, and wait until she knew them a little better? Or would she keep it to herself until she got to Washington?

But so far, she hadn't seen another human being for longer than ten minutes before stragglers came for them. And they had never seen her, never knowing that she was watching their deaths unfold in front of her. She was aware of them, and they never knew she existed.

Anna stopped, her eyes narrowing at the scene in front of her. Vehicles were scattered around the road; some crashed and some deserted. She glanced around at the edge of the woods, at the road up ahead, and at the vehicles. It was empty, no sign of life or of the dead. She took a hesitant step forward, pulling her gun out of the holster on her leg and inched closer, her body ready and poised. It was difficult to tell if anyone - living or dead - was around. She checked the vehicles, pulling open the doors as quietly as possible and checking the fuel meter. The majority of the vehicles were empty of gas, and she was about to give up when she counted the vehicles that she had checked and noticed that she had one more to check.

The exterior was chipped and worn but from a distance it looked as if it would be able to carry her for the miles it would take to travel to Washington. The fuel, however, was her main concern at that moment. She pulled open the door, wincing as it creaked in protest and froze as the noise echoed around the surrounding area. There was no movement, as she waited for a few moments, and she entered the vehicle by reaching to see the meter. There was little gas in it, but it wasn't enough to take her all the way to Washington. She put her gun away, and thought for a moment. It would definitely keep her safe for a while, and the back seat would be more comfortable to sleep on. It would serve her purpose; get her on the road and on the way to where she needed to be, and…

"Lost?"

A voice came from behind her and she stopped, frozen to the spot. She was in a position that was compromising, and one that she had vowed that she wouldn't get herself into if she ever came across other survivors. She took a deep breath, mentally cursing herself, and backed out of the vehicle. She turned slowly, her hand moving to her gun, and saw a lone man standing in front of her, with his hands on his hips.

He was taller, a lot taller than her, and his hair was short and brown, with a dusting of grey. He looked like a man of authority, the types she had seen daily in her job in the army. He was looking at her, with a smirk on his lips. She stood there for a moment, taking in the situation. There was no sign of a vehicle around which could only mean that he had walked out of the woods that surrounded them. She allowed her eyes to observe him, taking in the gun strapped to his hips and thigh. And the unmistakable feature of an eye patch.


	3. Hurt

_Chapter Two_

_Hurt_

The onslaught of bullets ricocheting around them had caused the three of them to find comfort and safety in an empty and looted pharmacy. Their breaths had hitched in their throats at the sound of the bullets piercing the thin plaster wall behind their trembling bodies. Sooner or later, they all noted, whoever was shooting like they had infinite ammo would run out of bullets and would be left with nothing to protect themselves. The number of shooters was a question in which they were unable to answer, and even Daryl found it difficult to identify the number of weapons being used.

Daryl huffed, fidgeting with his crossbow. The urge to go out there and fight for his group was increasing with every second that went by, but a little voice in his head automatically dismissed that thought. It would be suicide, he knew that. And there was no way that Rick or Glenn would allow him to do that. Compared to a gun and bullets, the crossbow didn't stand a chance. He didn't stand a chance.

Rick nudged him then, pointing towards the large domed mirror in the top corner of the back room that showed the shop front, as well as the direction the bullets were coming from. Daryl narrowed his eyes and saw that, despite the large amount of bullets making their way towards them, there were only two men who were behind the guns. Daryl stuck two digits up to Glenn who was facing them, as the sound of the guns stopping filled their ears.

"Stupid idiots," Daryl growled, loud enough for the two men to hear him. "Wasting bullets like there's no tomorrow. Don't they know there's an apocalypse going on?!"

The three men could hear cursing just a few yards away from them but made no attempt to move. The quieter they were then the better. The best thing for them to do was pretend to be dead, and so staying as silent as possible was important. At the moment they were in the best position. They could see the enemy, the enemy couldn't see them.

"We know ya there!" A voice, so rich of southern country, filled their ears. They made no move or any noise. "How many of ya?"

Daryl narrowed his eyes at Rick. Rick glanced back and shook his head.

"We have people out here," the man shouted again. "Don't do anything stupid."

Daryl scoffed and shook his head in disbelief. He was about to say something but Rick nudged him. Rick took a deep breath, and moved into a squat quietly.

"We mean you no harm," Rick shouted. "We're just trying to get supplies!"

Daryl motioned to Glenn to keep an eye on the mirror, and Glenn, understanding his instruction moved next to Daryl. Daryl moved into a squat, crossbow poised and ready. Rick, taking a deep breath and preparing himself mentally, stood, arms in the air, and watched as the two men raised their weapons at him.

"We mean you no harm," Rick repeated.

The two men were aged around twenty, nearly half of his own age. One was slightly taller than the other, more well-built. The shorter one had the attitude, and Rick surmised that he would be the problem, if there was one. The weapons in their hands were nearly as big as them and Rick could only assume that they had stumbled upon them. It would have been a lucky find for Rick and his group, knowing that weapons and ammunition were scarce at the prison now.

"What's your name?" Rick said to the taller man.

The man's eyes knitted together in confusion, and on a double glance of his name tag, glanced at Rick and nodded, uncertain. "Dean…?"

Rick nodded, his eyes narrowed. "We have women and children in our camp. Women and children who need us to provide for them. We mean you no harm, Dean."

'Dean' glanced towards the shorter man. The shorter man kept his gaze on Rick, his demeanour changing. His eyes were heavy and hard, as if he had nothing but death in his life.

Rick remained still, his eyes switching to both men. Daryl, on the other hand, was becoming restless. This whole waiting around and kissing ass wasn't working. He knew it. Rick knew it. Hell, even the walkers who heard the onslaught of bullets knew it. They were wasting time. The supply run was meant to be a quick affair, just an in and out job. This was something they prepared for, but when it actually happened, it was as if all the preparation had been for nothing.

"You got a camp?" 'Dean' asked, stepping forward. The shorter man, still unnamed and unknown to Rick, glared at him.

Rick nodded, slightly. "Yeah… just a small one. Mostly women and children."

"Yeah, you've already said that…" the shorter one said, and Rick heard the faint sound of a growl below him. He could sense Daryl becoming irritated and frustrated.

Rick had to think fast. Did he lie, and tell them that it was only him and a few other women and children back at the prison? Or, tell them about the family he had back at the prison, tell them the real reason as to why they were at the pharmacy? Either one wouldn't bode well with the shorter man, whereas 'Dean' would believe anything that he told him. They were young boys, in a world where they had to grow up faster than they wanted to, just like Carl. He had to think about his family, think about the threat the two men had on his family.

"Ya got room for a few others?" 'Dean' asked, his voice filled with hope.

Rick bit his lip. He thought back to when he and Hershel had been in a bar when the farm had been a safe place, and three men had walked in. They were sneaky, and shifty. Their words were empty, and their actions spoke volumes. He didn't trust them, and it was then that he realised that not all survivors were good people, that people were still as dangerous as they were before the outbreak.

But before he could answer, the short man had turned to 'Dean'.

"Are ya serious? We don't know him… for all we know he could be someone who kills people. And anyway… why do ya wanna leave?"

'Dean' shrugged. "I don't like it with him and his 'crew'. He has us out here killin' other survivors… where's the peace and harmony in that?"

"I don't like it either, but we're safe with him. We have a bed, food; water… so what if we have to kill some people? As long as I've got food in my belly and a pillow to rest my head, a little death never hurt anybody."

"We got the chance to get out of here, with other people; or on our own. We can still have that, just without the threat of death when we do something wrong…" 'Dean' whispered. "I ain't being funny but this could be our way out, Paul…"

"I ain't leavin'. Not after everything we've been through…"

'Dean' let out a sigh, turning back to Rick. "Ya got a place for one more?"

"Maybe… how many walkers have you killed?"

"Walkers?" 'Dean' asked. "We call them biters."

Paul gave a snort. "They still kill people though."

Rick nodded, "Yep. No matter what you call them, at the end of the day, they still rip our lives apart. But the same goes for humans… survivors like us. How many people have you killed?"

'Dean' shot Paul a nervous look and the shorter man shrugged. The shorter man spoke. "Enough… to stay safe, to keep what we have."

"He told us to do it though… I never wanted to kill people. Biters, yeah. But survivors… he made us do it."

And it all happened so quickly. The shorter man, identified as Paul had turned his gun towards 'Dean' and shot him dead, then turned his gun towards Rick and released the last bullet in the chamber, causing Rick to duck just as a bullet whizzed by his face, skimming him by just millimetres. He heard a grunt behind him and turned around, just as Daryl stood to his full height, crossbow aimed at the man, and discharged an arrow into the head of Paul. Daryl turned around to see Rick on the floor, covered in blood, his hands pressing down on Glenn's chest. He scrambled to the floor and added more pressure onto the wound, but the wound in Glenn's chest was still bleeding out, and no amount of pressure was able to stop the blood.


	4. Civilians

_Chapter Three_

_Civilians_

"Lost?" he repeated.

Anna stared at him, her eyes narrowing at him. She glanced around her discreetly, looking for a way out. She knew that situations like this one took planning; he might have other people in the woods with their guns aimed at her, or he might be the type of person who believed that he could handle her. She'd seen the same type in the army; they were strong, powerful and calculated. She could handle herself, having been trained in combat despite specialising in biomedical science. She knew how to use a weapon, identifying the many ways to kill a human with a gun without having to use a bullet. She was skilled, trained and capable of things another human might find hard to accept. If it came down to it, she could be dangerous.

Anna shrugged, shaking her head. "No. My group's around here."

He stared at her, his eyes dragging over her body, taking in her thin and toned body after many years of being in the army. She was short and tiny in comparison to her colleagues, but despite that, she was still able to keep up with the men. And she enjoyed it. She liked the routine, the control she had, and she enjoyed her work in biomedical science. She mostly worked alone or with one other scientist, and she enjoyed the freedom her work gave her as well as the opportunity to travel around to other countries. She made the impossible be possible.

"Oh?"

Anna gave a short nod. He was still standing there, eyes on her and a smirk playing on his lips. There were men - and women - in the old world and in the new world that were dangerous, untrustworthy and devious. It didn't matter, with the world in the state that it was in now, if you were good or bad. The good always died, and the bad prevailed. She'd seen it in the army; the weaker ones were thrown into the fire and the stronger ones climbed over their bodies and got to the top.

"That's funny…" he continued, stepping closer to her. "I've been trailing you for, what? The past mile… and…" he motioned the surrounding area with his arms. "I haven't seen one other survivor with you."

Anna narrowed her stare at him, a hint of a glare on her features. She didn't like him one bit. He made her feel uncomfortable. She smirked.

"It looks like I've got myself a stalker," she began, watching as a grimace formed on his face. "Which in this day and age is even creepier."

"You're funny," he said. "What's your name?"

There was movement behind her that caught her off-guard. She stole a glance and saw a heavy set man aiming a gun at her who seemed to have come out of the woods. Her hand was on her gun, ready for him to make the first move. She stared at the man in front of her, with the eye-patch, and bit her lip. She was trying to stall him for as long as possible, trying to devise a plan of how to get out without a scratch or a serious injury. The entirety of the man behind her with the gun aimed at her head was uncomforting but she was trained for this. She'd be able to get out of situations like this one.

"Anna."

He smiled and nodded. "Nice name. Means gracious and merciful, am I right? Are you forgiving, Anna?"

"Depends on what needs to be forgiven."

"I like her," he said to the man behind her. "She can stay."

"Stay?" Anna asked. "I have somewhere to be."

"No one has a place to be. Not anymore."

Anna furrowed her brow but dismissed his comment. "So, what's your name?"

"Philip."

"Hm… let me see," Anna began. "Philip means an idealistic nature; a desire for peace and harmony which can often cause friction with people; quite reserved and inclined to feel self-conscious sometimes despite striving to appear poised, confident and composed; quite secretive, which can make it hard to trust other people and open up to them; a desire to help others; a deeper appreciation of nature and the finer things in life; and if knowledge serves me right… a lover of horses."

Philip smirked, his eyes glowing with amusement. "You're good."

"So I've been told," Anna replied, raising her eyebrow. "Any skeletons hidden in your closet?"

The smirk was gone, and a blank expression etched across his face. His eyes burned into her as if trying to distinguish if she was able to see the secrets behind them. Anna stared at him, trying to read him. He was difficult to read, and he was a man who was able to hold in his feelings and keep them hidden. Was he like that before the outbreak or had the outbreak made him become this person? She knew he had secrets, everyone had secrets. Hell, even she had secrets.

"Wouldn't you like to know," he said, sneering slightly. The man that had been behind her moved to stand next to Philip. "So where's this place that you have to be?"

"Washington."

"Why?" Philip asked. "What's special about Washington?"

Anna shrugged, "Family."

"Ah… family… a foreign word in this world," Philip said, glancing at the man stood beside him. "Oh, how rude I am. This is Patrick… and the man behind you is Merle."

Before she knew it, the man named 'Merle' had crept up behind her and hit her on the head with his weapon. She fell to her knees, holding her head as a dull ache pierced through her pain barrier. She pulled her gun out and shot, hearing a faint thump as the body of Patrick dropped to the ground. She wasn't sure where she actually shot him and she wasn't able to see as Philip stormed towards her, blocking her view.

He grabbed her face and pulled hard so that she was looking at him. He spoke harshly. "One thing I didn't tell you… people call me The Governor. And one thing you don't do is anger me, got that?"

He threw her to the ground and walked away, leaving Merle to handle her. She moved her hand to her head and felt the wetness and slickness of blood. But she was unable to do anything as unconsciousness began to plague her senses. The last thing she saw before unconsciousness enveloped her into an unwelcome hug was the man identified to her as Merle being the only thing she could see. And then after a short moment, nothing but darkness.


	5. Young Blood

_Chapter Four_

_Young Blood_

The prison was unusually quiet, and the silence could only mean one thing; a supply run. With the fortnightly supply run came the dread and fear of something happening. The security that the prison offered was intense, and a feeling that neither of them wanted to be apart from. The decision to move to the prison was a huge one, with so many implications. But they had made it work as best they could, and once the obstacle of walkers in the grounds and within the walls of the once working prison were taken care of; they soon began to get used to the barriers that prevented the dead from entering their new home. It offered them the protection that, since the outbreak had rolled out onto the streets, they were unable to find at the Quarry and the farm, regrettably.

The departure from the farm was a hard one, but the horde of walkers that passed through it had made their decision for them. They had been on the road for three weeks before finding the prison, and all of them had looked to the sky and counted their blessings. Another night on the road, without the security of a functioning vehicle, was going to be hard. Space had become limited, as they soon found out that they were running out of fuel before they knew it, and had to leave vehicles - their temporary homes - behind. But the prison had been their home for longer than their time on the road, and three months later, they were still relishing in the fact that they had taken the chance and it had paid off.

Lori was sat outside, with the sun beating down on her face and she smiled as a soft breeze rolled over her. Her hand was rubbing her growing stomach protectively. It was moments like this one, when she felt a soft thump against her hand, which made it all worthwhile. The pregnancy was an easy one, and she was in her sixth month now. The baby was strong and healthy, according to Hershel, and the birth would be okay. As long as she rested, which was her downfall, she would be on the right track. The pregnancy had been a shock, but a good shock, and Rick, despite everything that had happened, had accepted it. There was still tension between the both of them but they tried to make it work for Carl. A few of the adults in the group could see that it was hard for the both of them, but made no comment. They knew it was hard, and would be hard. But for Carl, they put on a brave face and made it work.

She often found herself sitting outside, waiting for Rick to come back. She felt nervous, she always did whenever he left the prison to go on a supply run, but her fears were diminished whenever she saw their vehicle making its way towards the prison. And she realised that it would never go away. It was something that spouses felt, no matter how simply or complicated a supply run was. Something could go wrong or nothing at all. The best and only thing you could do was prepare for the worst and hope for the best, and that's what happened.

A door opened and closed behind her and she shielded her eyes from the sun and stole a glance. She could see Maggie walking towards her, with the same look of worry on her face.

"How long has it been?" Maggie asked as she came to sit next to Lori.

Lori glanced at her watch. "Three hours. They still have three hours left before the time they should be back."

Maggie nodded, picking the skin around her thumb with worry. Lori reached over and held the younger woman's hand. Maggie glanced up and gave a small, sad smile.

"It's going to be okay," Lori said. "They're going to be absolutely fine. They know what they're doing, okay?"

Maggie was quiet, and the two of them glanced out at the surrounding area. The scenery in front of them was beautiful, with the sunshine beating down on them and the trees turning from dark green to a soft orange. It was warm, with just a tiny bite of coldness in the air. It wasn't as beautiful as that of the farm but it would make do. In the world that they lived in now, tiny things that were deemed as insignificant in their previous life were now beautiful. The outbreak - or whatever happened - had made every day precious. The group had a new outlook on life, with every little worry from their life before meaning not meaning anything anymore. In a way, the dead roaming around had brought them peace. The stresses of modern life were no more; arguments about bills, jobs, etc. were of no importance now. Even though they had to face the stresses of finding food, no hospitals, and having to go on supply runs every fortnight, life was perfect. The dead, however, were easy to handle if they were taken care of every morning and every evening before dark. Apart from that, life was simple.

They watched Carol in the grounds, her foot pressing down on the spade and making a dent in the soil. Carl was helping her pull up the potatoes and onions, whilst Hershel stood and watched, occasionally informing Carl about the importance of growing your own vegetables. Carl's behaviour had somewhat improved in the past months, but there were still moments when he fought back, testing the barrier. Lori could only guess this was his body changing from the quiet little boy into the argumentative teenager. Being a youngster changing into a teenager in a changing world was hard. Rick advised Lori to keep her distance from him, and allow him to express his emotions by doing activities with other members of the group. That way he was able to become independent, and be able to come to her when he needed her.

She smiled and felt tears form in her eyes. She had never been an emotional person but now, with a baby growing inside her, her emotions were all over the place. Maggie glanced at her, and smiled.

"He's a good boy," Maggie said. "Growing up way too fast."

"It makes you forget," Lori started, wiping the tears from her eyes. "It's been so long since we've had normality in our lives, and he was so young when everything happened. It's strange looking at him and seeing how grown up he looks, and understand how quick he's had to grow up."

"It's the way it's supposed to be. One minute, Beth was this small baby that mom and dad brought home from the hospital, then the next she's a little girl with pigtails in her hair running through the fields… and now… I look at her and think how much she's grown up. She's sixteen, and I keep expecting to see the little perfect girl in daddy's arms," Maggie whispered, her eyes travelling to where Beth stood with Sophia. The two girls had become close over the past few weeks and it was nice to see them both spending time together and talking about things other than the dead. "How are things with you and Rick?"

"Getting there," Lori said, giving Maggie a reassuring smile. "It's not how it used to be… but it's better than what it was a few months ago."

"That's something though."

"I guess so," Lori nodded. "I'm not surprised though… what I did was wrong… and I should be grateful that he can still look at me."

A whistle caught their attention, and they looked just in time to see a vehicle, the one Rick, Daryl and Glenn had travelled in and had left just short of four hours ago, racing towards the gates. Maggie and Carol ran to the gates, and pulled them open, standing back and hiding their face from the loose gravel that the tires had kicked up. They quickly closed the gate and followed after the vehicle as it drove to the next set of gates, and the group caught up with them just as Daryl exited the driver's seat and opened the back door. Rick stepped out quickly and the two men pulled the body from the back seat. Maggie screamed as soon as she saw the blood covering Glenn's abdomen, and her hand flew over her hand as her eyes noticed the limpness in his body. Daryl picked him up, his body much lighter than he had expected and raced towards the entrance to the prison, following Hershel's instructions to take him straight to the infirmary.

Rick stayed back, in an attempt to comfort Maggie. She was inconsolable and her movements were that of a caged animal; pacing and painful cries erupting from her. Her legs gave way and she found herself losing balance and crashing to the ground, but Rick was there and guided her to the ground. She sobbed into him, grabbing his blood soaked shirt in her fists as the pain ran through her.

The question as to whether he was close to death was too unbearable to answer. She had seen Carl in the same state, but this somehow felt different.

"Was he bit?" Maggie whispered, her sobs subsiding but not that far away from becoming what they were.

Rick shook his head, his arms still around her. "No… he was shot. We came across two people, and one went crazy, shot his friend and shot at us… it hit Glenn…"

"Where?"

"In the chest," Rick whispered. "Near his heart."

Lori watched her husband comfort Maggie as best as he could. She had been in the same position Maggie was in now, when it was Shane coming to tell her about Rick being fatally shot, and it broke her heart to see the young girl break down and go through the same thing. The downside to the world they now lived in was the loss of the hospitals, all they had was faith, hope and the longing of a miracle.


	6. Quail

_Chapter Five_

_Quail_

The heaviness in her head welcomed her as soon as she began to regain consciousness; and the little snippets of what happened, although quite faded and hazy, only caused the pain in her head to worsen. She was lying on the floor, that much was certain, and the area around her was quiet, which she could only guess that she was in a room of some sort. Where and how she got there was still up for discussion. She rolled over so that she was lying on her back, and as her senses came back to her, she felt the ache in the left side of her body at being stuck in the same position for a long period of time. The taste of blood was evident, and she moved her arm slowly towards her head, her fingers touching the dried crusts of blood.

_Caught off-guard… and there was a man… with an eye patch… and then another man… had his gun pointed at me… then another man… M… Merle?… a gun had gone off… Philip…_

Anna opened her eyes and found herself trying to focus on the white ceiling. Her eyes were blurry, and the chandelier on the ceiling was either moving or her mind was playing tricks on her. She tried to sit up, but as soon as she took her head off the floor, dizziness overwhelmed her. She shuffled towards the bed frame on her bottom, and rested against it, her head lolling backwards. As she regained control of her vision and the dizziness began to subside, she took a glance around the room. It was small, with a single bed, a bedside table, a practical cupboard and a little table near the window. The walls were white and the floor was a dark brown, with a cream rug near the door. The door, she squinted, had a several locks on the top part of the door, as if keeping something in or out. Her bag was situated on the table and she pulled herself up to the check the room for her weapons, but found nothing. She furrowed her brow and cursed.

The sound of the door being unlocked could be heard and she turned towards the door just as a woman just a little taller than her walked through. Anna watched as the woman turned back and nodded, and the man on the outside - watching the door - closed and locked it behind her. The woman offered her a small smile that spoke uncertainty, but Anna didn't move from where she was stood. Though unsteady on her feet, she didn't give the impression that she was vulnerable or at a weakness. She thought back to her army training; 'Despite how weak you are, whether you're bleeding, your limbs are hanging off or your guts are hanging out, you grin and bear it. The first sign of weakness you show to your enemy will allow them to get the upper hand. Never show your weakness, or you'll die.' The words of her army sergeant played through her mind and she bit her lip as the dull ache in her head persisted.

"I'm Lilly," the woman spoke up, her voice small and quiet, child-like. "I'm here to clean up your wounds."

Anna stared at her and immediately knew she was of no harm. Trusting her, however, was something that would be off the cards for the time being.

"Where am I?" Anna asked.

"You're at Woodbury," Lilly said, placing the medical box on the bed. "Philip and his men brought you in. They found you in a wreckage."

Anna furrowed her eyebrow and glanced at Lilly. "W-what?"

"You were in a wreckage when they came across you. You were unconscious. It was lucky they found you when they did, there was a huge horde of biters making their way to where you had crashed," Lilly answered, opening the box and getting out the essential bits.

Anna shook her head and held the table to steady herself. "No… no. That's not what happened…"

"You're confused. You hit your head pretty hard."

"I was hit… in the head by a man. Merle… yeah, Merle. He pistol whipped me. And…" Anna mumbled. "I was brought here. And my weapons are gone."

Lilly smiled, "Safety precaution. You'll be allowed them back when you're better, and able to stand up without needing to hold onto the table. Come on, I'll clean you up."

"I want to leave… as soon as you clean me up… I want to leave. Got that?" Anna demanded, angrily.

Lilly smiled and nodded. "I'll go speak with Philip. Tell him that you're better, and then you can leave. Okay? But first I need to clean your wound, before it gets infected."

Anna walked over to the bed slowly, her feet heavy as if made of wet sand. Lilly met her halfway and she dropped her defenses enough to be walked to the bed. Her eyes remained on the door as Lilly pulled on a pair of disposable gloves and pulled her auburn hair away from the wound. The wound was not as serious as she thought it was and despite there being a small amount of dried blood; there was only a miniature cut. It was tender to touch but Anna never moved as Lilly pressed her finger around the wound to ensure there wasn't a skull fracture. When she was happy that there wasn't a fracture, Lilly dipped a piece of cloth into a cup of water and gently placed it over the cut. She dabbed it on the skin and the dried blood was soon disappearing, faintly seeping into the cloth. Then she rubbed antibacterial gel onto a clean cloth and dabbed it again, surprised that the stinging didn't affect Anna, then she opened a small plaster and gently placed it on the wound.

"Finished?" Anna asked, and when Lilly nodded, she stood up and made her way towards her bag. "Thanks, by the way, for your hospitality. But I'd like to leave now."

Lilly was packing up the medical kit, and glanced over to her. "It's a good place here. Out there… it's horrible, but here? It's a good place. I'd stay, if I were you… get used to it, you know?"

Anna narrowed her eyes and shook her head. "No, thanks. I want to get away from here as quickly as I can. And if I were you, I'd get out too. Those men… they're dangerous."

"You were barely conscious. They're not bad people."

"I know what I saw. I know what they did to me. How many men came back with me?"

Lilly thought back to when Anna arrived just short of an hour ago, and noticed that they were a man down. Only Philip and Merle had come back. But he could've gotten bitten. The world was a scary place now.

"Two… Philip and Merle," Lilly stated.

"I'm right…" Anna nodded. "I shot Patrick, after Merle pistol whipped me. You have to believe me."

"He could've been bitten. You know what it's like out there. It's not the same anymore," Lilly began. "You were dazed… drifting in and out of consciousness."

"You're blindsided," Anna surmised. "You're involved with one of them. Merle? No. Philip. It's Philip, isn't it?"

The sound of the door unlocking halted their conversation, preventing Lilly from answering, but Anna already knew. Philip had cast a spell on Lilly. Compared to Philip, Lilly was naïve and trusting. The door opened and revealed the shape of the devil himself. Philip stepped inside and with a smile - one that Anna had seen so many times before - dismissed Lilly from the room without another word. Lilly cast one last glance towards Anna who gave her a knowing look. The door shut behind her and Anna was left alone in the room with Philip.

"I was so worried about you," Philip began. "The wreckage was bad."

Anna glared at Philip. He was standing at the doorway, blocking her exit. She glanced at the window, and thought about jumping out of it. It would hurt but she'd be able to get ahead of him and his henchmen. And without her weapons, what other choice did she have?

"You're full of bullshit."

Philip shook his head. "Language, missy. Don't bite the hand that feeds you."

"I'm leaving," Anna said. "Now."

Philip tipped his head to the side, and pouted slightly as if thinking of what to say. "But we haven't welcomed you to the group yet."

"You can shove your welcome up your a-"

She was cut off to a man entering the room. Bald head, stocky build, one hand… Merle. He smirked at her, and spoke to Philip quietly. She tried to narrow down her hearing and she heard snippets of it. _Trek… shelter… prison…_

Philip nodded and Merle departed the room. Anna folded her arms as he glanced at her. His eyes travelled over her body and she winced at the attention, he'd done it before…

"You can leave," Philip began. "But on one condition."

Anna exhaled. "What?"

Philip smirked. "You tell me what those blood samples are."

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_Author's note: Thank you to everyone who has reviews, favourited, and are following this. I really appreciate it. Hope you like it!_


	7. Delicate

_Chapter Six_

_Delicate_

Glenn was stable, for the most part. He'd lost a substantial amount of blood, but for meantime, he was recovering. The duration of that recovery process was unknown, but as Hershel wiped the blood from his hands with a damp towel, he watched as the young man's breathing was shallow and laboured. He'd been brought back to the prison within the golden hour; a term in which gave its victims an hour before their chances of survival were slashed and divided by half. Rick and Daryl had done everything they could do: checked to make sure his airway was open and not obstructed by anything; ensured that he was breathing and even though he had short laboured breaths, he was still breathing; made sure that his circulation was satisfactory, and they had added pressure on his wound to make sure that the bleeding was beginning to cease; and checked to make sure that there was an exit wound, which they couldn't find. It had taken him a while to get the majority of the bullet pieces out of his chest, but he was grateful that there weren't many of them.

The infirmary was a quiet place, and a place where he would often come and visit. Since losing his leg, he was only able to walk certain distances and the infirmary was just a short walk away from Cell Block C, where they currently inhabited. He would bring a book, and open the windows, and the sense of freedom within the room was overwhelming to him. But one thing he was sure of, he never thought it would ever be used.

It was strange, seeing the man who his daughter was in love with and the man who loved her in return, to be on the table and bleeding out. His life had been just a grasp away, with it slowly becoming further and further away. It scared him to know that the life of the man who held his daughters heart was so vulnerable, and in his hands. He had banned Maggie from the infirmary, ensuring that someone was with her at all times whilst he did his best to work on Glenn. And with Daryl's help and support - of which he was grateful for - they were able to keep his body working, and keep him clinging to life.

"We'll take it in turns to stay with him during the day and night until he wakes up," Hershel said to Daryl as they cleaned him up and wiped the blood from his body. Daryl nodded.

"I'll speak with Rick," Daryl said. "When shall we move him to somewhere more comfortable?"

Hershel glanced at Glenn and bit his lip. He didn't want to sound morbid but Glenn's fate was in his own hands now. They had done all that they could, and now he needed to get better.

"We'll give him one night, and then move him to those beds over there," Hershel said, motioning towards the more comfortable beds on the opposite side of the room. "That way, if he… passes, then we won't have wasted another bed."

Daryl gave a curt nod, understanding completely what Hershel meant. "I'll go tell Maggie that she can see him."

Hershel nodded and turned back to Glenn. The door opened and he glanced to see Maggie enter the room quietly, her eyes never straying from Glenn's body. A soft sob escaped her mouth, and she stood at the end of the bare bed, as if fear had overwhelmed her and she was unable to venture closer to him.

"I'm scared, daddy."

Hershel's heart broke at her scared voice, and he was by her side as quickly as he could manage. He held her hand and with his other hand, he led her over to Glenn's bedside. She stood, despite her legs trembling beneath her, and she cried and cried. The emotion was too much, and her throat was soon sore from howling.

"It's okay…" he whispered. "Talk to him."

"Is he going to be okay? Is he going to live?"

He wanted to lie to his daughter, promise her that he'd get better and that the nightmare they were in was just a nightmare. That as soon as she woke up from a nap, he'd be fine. But she was no longer a child. He could no longer lie about a problem, and make it seem diminutive. She was able to see through everything that he said to her. She was an adult, and this wasn't just a nightmare.

"I don't know," Hershel whispered. "But that doesn't mean he's not going to pull through. He's strong, and he has a good chance."

Maggie nodded, and turned back to Glenn. She held his hand, and spoke to him like he was able to answer her. Hershel stayed close to her but didn't invade their space. He stared off into the distance wondering if he'd done enough for Glenn.

"I told him not to go," Maggie said, causing Hershel to look over at her. She was holding his hand, and staring at his fingers. "I told him to stay with me. I didn't want him to go out there."

"And that's normal… it's a harsh world out there."

"Was it selfish of me? Did I make this happen because I wanted him to stay with me?"

Hershel moved to where she was located, and wrapped an arm around her, protectively. "Of course not, sweetie. You have no say in what happens, and just because you wanted him to stay with you, doesn't mean you were a factor in what happened. I don't want you to blame yourself… you need to focus on Glenn."

"I know…" Maggie sighed. "I love him so much, daddy."

"I know you do, honey," Hershel said. "He's a good man."

But the answer as to whether Glenn would make this out alive, let alone the night, was uncertain. He couldn't answer that question. He had a good chance of recovering and surviving, but with the good came the bad and his chances were slim. His wound, despite how clean and not as fatal as he could have imagined, there was still the question of an infection. The infection would kill him, and with the pharmacy being off limits, Hershel had to think of other ways to ensure that Glenn was going to pull through.

Life was always uncertain but now it was like a game of Russian roulette. And unfortunately, that's what it all came down to, like it always did. Life and death came hand in hand, and in situations like this, you were blinded, and unsure of what hand you were given.


	8. Skeletons

_Chapter Seven_

_Skeletons_

Anna glanced down at her bag, the feeling of anger radiating through her body at the thought of a man like _him_ peeking through her private belongings. The only things that she had with her, the only things to her name, and he had the audacity to take a peek and be nosey. In a world where things meant nothing anymore, any little thing that should have been private and kept hidden was on full show. The mask that people gave in hope that individuals couldn't see the cracks that were appearing meant everything. To have that protection, portraying someone that was prepared for this world, to welcome it hand in hand and to think of the positives of the world being as it was. No one was prepared for a world like this one, and anyone who was or claimed to be was lying. Underneath they were scared. And people - survivors - like Philip was putting a front on, like a performer; underneath the façade and behind closed doors, they were still human.

She opened her bag, felt the coolness of the glass that contained the important blood samples, and turned to Philip. He had moved closer to her without her realising, and she felt a wave of anguish wash over her. He had a way of making her feel uncomfortable and awkward. She couldn't put her finger on why. It wasn't just the way he held himself, she was able to handle that, but it was something hidden, and she knew he was giving her hints just by the way he was looking at her but like a fish too full from bait, she couldn't grasp onto the hints he was dangling in front of her face.

There was something about him, with which she was going to find out.

"I'm testing myself for diabetes," Anna said.

His face features didn't move, as if he was thinking about what she was saying and trying to find truth in her words. She hoped that he would believe it. It wasn't true, but it was the only explanation as to why she had blood samples in her bag.

"Why?" Philip asked.

"My station in Washington will expect the tests once I get there. Six months worth of blood samples, and if there is no difference, then I'll be able to find by family," Anna began. "I'm unable to test them myself, just in case I taint them thus making them unreliable."

He stared at her, his eyes narrowing at her, before giving a slight nod. He moved over towards her, getting into her personal space and dropped his voice. "I was in the army once. It's a tough job. What do you specialise in?"

"Biomedical science," Anna stated, staring ahead.

"Ah… brainy work," he whispered, before moving away. "Well it was _lovely_ having you here. It's a shame you don't want to stick around, I'm sure we would have worked well together."

"Yes… it's truly unfortunate."

"You'll be able to retrieve your weapons once you leave here," Philip said, opening the door. "And we'll give you a vehicle, with enough fuel in it to make it to Washington."

"Thanks," Anna said. "I appreciate your _hospitality_."

With one last glance in her direction, he left the room, closing the door behind him. Anna breathed out, not realising that she was holding her breath as he left the room. She quickly rummaged through her back, finding six identical looking vials full of blood. She breathed a sigh of relief. They were in a box, all placed in separate spaces. She thought back to what Philip had said, '_able to retrieve your weapons… vehicle with enough fuel…'_.

She wanted to believe him. She truly did. But he unnerved her. What was it that made her uneasy?

She took her jacket out of her bag and pulled it on. She pressed her hand upon the pocket with her name on it, then slipped her arms through the arms of the her backpack and hauled it on. She made for the door, surprised that it opened as soon as she got close to it. Philip stood there, with _that _smile on his face and motioned for her to follow him. The man who was watching the door grinned at her but she offered him no inclination of a smile, or anything vaguely resembled a smile. She didn't trust anyone.

Philip could not be trusted. She thought back to when she first came across him; that unfortunate moment when she was looking at the gas metre and hadn't noticed his presence behind her. She thought back to the conversation they had; the moment the man - Patrick - had slipped out of the woods behind her with a gun aimed at her head; the test he had given her, and the one she had given him; then another man appearing behind her, the one without the hand; then the dull ache as Merle pistol-whipped her; the moment Philip had told her the nickname his group called him…

That was it. _The Governor. _He had already given her the answer, but her mind had been lost of all memories of the day. Did he think she wouldn't remember? Did he think he was getting away with it? Had he expected her to remember it, or expected that her head wound was a lot more serious than what it was? Had he expected her to wake up, despite leaving the medical examination until a few hours later?

She stared at the back of his head, and glared. She knew she couldn't do anything until she was safely out of where she was, and away from him. They walked down the stairs of the building they were in, and as he opened the door to the outside world, she was taken aback by the scent in the air.

The smell of death.

He turned around and stared at her, trying to find a hint of an expression but Anna, as hard as it was, remained expressionless and unreadable.

"Why don't you take a walk around," Philip said. "Take a look around."

Anna gave a small nod, as her feet carried her out into the middle of the road. She glanced sideways, noticing how the street was cut off from the real outside world as large barriers blocked off the roads. It reminded her of a small town in a movie she watched once, but for the life of her, she was unable to remember the name of it. It was a nice place, but there was something that made her feel unsettled. And with the smell of death in the air, it was a place she couldn't wait to leave.

She stared at the people around her; families walking together with the children talking energetically about something they had read in a book; old couples standing hand in hand as they looked at the flowers planted in window boxes of a pharmacy; young people standing around talking. She narrowed her eyes at looked at the corners of the small town, and caught the gaze of a woman who, like herself, was watching the people around her. She had long black braided hair, was of an African-American descent, and had a slim build. She wore a brown leather vest over a tank top, with leggings and tall black boots. A piece of material was in her hair, keeping her braids from falling into her face. And as Anna narrowed her gaze at her, she realised that some sort of weapon was attached to her back with a strap. A sword, or large blade of some sort.

The woman kept her gaze on her for just a moment longer than what Anna was comfortable with. She never backed down her stare, and watched as the woman took a hesitant step forward before walking towards her. Before she was able to come up to her, a blonde woman appeared out of nowhere and began talking to her. The woman's eyes occasionally glanced towards Anna, as if seeing she was still there.

Anna turned her attention towards Philip who was stopped also by a man with glasses. Anna narrowed her gaze at him and trying to read his lips, but she was too far away.

"You're new."

Anna turned around and found the woman standing next to her, her eyes bearing into her. She nodded.

"Not for long," Anna stated.

The woman scoffed. "No one leaves."

She was about to ask the woman what she meant but was cut off by the woman herself.

"You don't trust him," the woman analysed, to which Anna shook her head. "Me neither."

"Why don't you leave then?" Anna asked.

"I'm trying."

Philip came over then, his eyes on the vehicle being driven out of the small parking lot next to the large barriers. Anna turned to her left, not seeing the woman any more. He came towards her with a fixed smile on his face.

"Vehicle is ready. Your weapons will be given to you once you leave."

Anna nodded, and Philip began to walk away. She watched him walk towards the vehicle.

"There's something about him, isn't there?" The woman said behind her, causing her to jump in fright.

"You hit the nail on the head."

"Smell that in the air?" She asked, to which Anna nodded. "People in here seem to be immune to the smell of burning bodies."

A whistle could be heard in the distance, and the two women watched as Philip motioned for Anna to retrieve the vehicle.

"Be careful," she whispered.

Anna nodded, watching as Philip spoke again with a short man with glasses. "You too."

It reminded her of a film, _The Truman Show_. It looked as if it was all placed there, to make her believe that it was a perfect world, when in fact it was a total lie. Secrets and lies were hidden in the cracks.

"What's your name?" Anna asked. "I'm Anna."

"Michonne," the woman answered. Anna nodded in appreciation.

"Well, I hope you get out of here."

Michonne smirked, "You too."

Anna furrowed her brow but knew what the woman meant. She bid farewell and made her way towards the vehicle. A man was in the drivers seat, and drove towards the gates. The barriers were opened and he drove out slowly. She followed after Philip who was carrying her weapons and a bag full of her ammunition. The man got out of the car and left the door open, and Philip turned to her and handed her back her weapons. She took them, and half expected him to turn his gun on her and shoot her dead but when he didn't, she breathed a sigh of relief.

He took a step back, towards the gates. He waved at her, with that smug smile on his face, as she got into the vehicle. She pressed her foot down and soon she was driving away from the small town. She glanced in the rear view window and saw that the name of the town was painted on the metal barrier.

_Woodbury_.

She looked ahead and drove as fast as she could away from the town.

The Governor watched her drive away in the vehicle given to her. He turned to Merle and lowered his voice just for the bald man to hear. "Go after her and kill her. She knows too much."


	9. Mortality

_Chapter Eight_

_Mortality_

Mortality, plural. Definition: the state of being subject to death; the quality or condition of being mortal; the rate of failure or loss; mankind, humanity; certainty of death.

Death was always constant. The loss of life was always the same. The only difference was how and why a person died. The circumstances differed, and each person would die in different ways and for dissimilar reasons. But this world… changed that. Everyone was entitled to a noble death, to die in a dignified manner and be remembered as strong, powerful and influential. But death, now, was tainted with the prospect of becoming the very thing they tried to protect themselves from. Death was not that far away, and all of them would die sooner or later, but the question of what would happen when the last of them went down like a sinking ship was never far from their mind. The last remaining person was certain of their death; a bullet to the brain.

The fear of death would never disappear, and until their final moments, it would remain until the moment they took their last breath and the fear would dissipate and fade away with their soul.

Glenn was in abyss between life and death. It was a dark place, where day and night were the same, and the only light to guide him around was a tiny golden orb, similar to a flash light in pure darkness. He was able to hear people talking but it was echoed, and faded in and out like a broken radio. He could hear Maggie talking to someone… was it him? She was speaking slowly, almost inaudible. He tried to respond, but his cries and shouts were left unanswered. Her voice continued to echo around him as he moved around the space he was currently in.

His skin felt numb but electric at the same time. It was a strange feeling, one that he was sure he had never experienced before. His body felt light and weak despite the electricity coursing through his body.

The darkness turned into a shocking bright light, and Glenn shielded his face. It was like staring at the sun for longer than you should, and despite protecting himself from the intense brightness, Glenn found that even though his eyes were closed, all he could see was white. It lasted for a minute before the light darkened until it was a normal light.

Glenn opened his eyes and found that he was at the prison. The prison was empty, and the grounds outside were unoccupied of walkers. He called out names, hoping that someone would hear him and come out. But when no one came, a flutter of fear overwhelmed his heart. He walked over to the wall that bore his and Maggie's name and felt tears fill his eyes.

"Maggie!" He shouted, unaware of the person standing behind him.

"Glenn?"

At the call of his name, Glenn turned around and his mouth opened as the person smiled. Dale wore his fisherman's hat and had his beloved rifle hanging from his hand.

"Dale?" Glenn asked in disbelief. The older man nodded and narrowed his eyes in confusion.

"I wondered where you got to," Dale said, stepping closer toward him

"What are you doing here? What is this place?"

"What do you mean?" Dale asked. "Are you alright?"

"Where is everyone?" Glenn asked, franticly.

"Glenn… calm down," Dale said, reassuringly. "Everyone's inside… everything is okay."

"No it's not!" Glenn said. "You're dead!"

Dale laughed, shaking his head. "How can I be dead if I'm right here, talking to you?"

"You died…" Glenn said. "You were ripped open by a walker."

Dale's face fell and he narrowed his eyes at Glenn. Glenn remained looking at him, never once straying his eyes away from him.

"You're dead, Dale." Glenn said defiantly.

The sound of a door screeching open and shut caught Glenn's attention and he watched through the metal cage as pairs of legs ambled out of the prison and out into the courtyard. The faces of those who he thought he would never see again were in front of him; Ed, Amy, Dr. Jenner, Shane, Jacqui, Jim, Otis, Patricia and Jimmy. He scrunched in his face up and shook his head as it suddenly dawned on him. Dale went to stand in front of the line of people.

"No… no," Glenn said. "This can't be happening. No… I-I… No!"

"Glenn…" Shane came forward.

"No."

"You have to accept it," Shane said. "This is like we've never left. We're alive here. We've been given the chance to live in this new world… and when time comes for the others to arrive, it will be like how it was."

"No."

"The sooner you accept it, the sooner it will become normal."

There was a crackle of lightening in the distance, and Glenn turned towards the prison ground. He heard screams and the call of his name coming from the skies and the sky, once clear and neutral, turned dark and thunderous. Thick clouds appeared out of nowhere and another ear-splitting crackle of lightening shot through the sky.

"What's happening?" Glenn asked, turning back towards the group.

"What always happens when it's time," Dale whispered. "You're dying."

As Maggie stared at Glenn's face, so calm and peaceful, she held his hand tightly. She closed her eyes for a moment and gently placed a kiss on his hand.

"I love you," Maggie whispered. "I love you so much. Please, wake up."

Silence filled her ears and she stroked his face and smoothed his hair. She willed for him to open his eyes, say something or squeeze her hand… but she was happy that he was still breathing.

Then Glenn went into shock.


	10. Peril

_Author's note: Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, favourited and alerted this story. It really means a lot. Hope you enjoy! Also, let me know what you think!_

* * *

_Chapter Nine_

_Peril_

The chamber was empty. The bullets stripped from her gun and, on closer inspection, the bag given to her was filled with nothing but coins. She cursed under her breath and beat her hands against the steering wheel. Her knife, however, was the only weapon they had given to her. Not only was her gun empty of bullets and ammunition stolen, the vehicle she had been given only had enough gas to drive fifteen minutes down the road. She was in danger, and knowing what Philip - or the _Governor_ - could be capable, she needed to move fast to get as far away from Woodbury as she was able to.

Knowing him he'd be after her, or have one of his men to follow her and dispose of her. There was no way he would have let her go that easily if he knew what she was capable of doing or had hidden intentions. The Governor was not a man who just let you leave and not do anything about it. She glanced in the rear view mirror, and thought for a moment. The road behind her was empty. The sky was becoming darker, the hours of daylight running out before she realised. It had been a long day, and she wasn't any closer to Washington. It had been a strange one and she furrowed her brow in confusion and frustration: Philip, or the Governor, had made her rethink about what was important about the world now. She'd seen the power that Philip exuded. The whole town fawned over him, respected him, and believe him when he told them that they were safe, protected and out of harms way. But something hung heavy in the air, and it wasn't the smell of burning bodies.

Michonne had agreed with her, which despite never meeting before, had sent a chill down Anna's spine. A woman she had no recollection of meeting, ever talking to or being introduced to, had seen the look on her face and identified the mistrust Anna had in him. And it was written all over Michonne's face. He had lied about her being in a wreckage, portraying a man who would do anything for another human being, when in fact, he was a liar and deceived those people who laid their trust in him.

She exited the vehicle, and pulled her bag out with her. Her eyes remained on the road she had just drove down before her vehicle spluttered to its death. She opened her bag, and pulled out her journal. She quickly scribbled in a small note on the current date and wrote: _Met a man who calls himself The Governor. The type of guy who would stab you in the back whilst laughing in your face. Has a town called Woodbury, doesn't feel right. Smell of burning bodies fill the air; humans or the dead? He lies; he told me that he found me in a wreckage with his men, when in fact he got one of his men, a man called Merle, to knock me out. I don't trust him._

She quickly threw the journal back in her bag, took out the map, slipped it back on and made for the woods. As her feet tread on the wood floor, she remembered one of her combat missions where she, and other soldiers, were blindfolded and driven to the middle of the woodland, in the middle of nowhere. All were placed in different areas and had to get back to the base before anyone else. They had nothing with them except for the clothes on their back. There were backpacks allocated around the woods that had a map, binoculars, a hunting knife, rope, and a packet of food to last them a week. She'd spent nights staring at the stars whilst tied to a tree to prevent her from falling out, and days staring at the blinding sun as she tracked and tried to make her way out of the woods. She'd gotten to a road, and spent the whole day following the tracks of an injured animal until she came across its dying body. It was a young deer, and on closer inspection, looked as if its leg had been hit by a speeding vehicle. The leg was ripped out of its joint and she did the only humane thing she could think of and ended its suffering. Once the deer was put out of its misery, she wiped her knife on her trousers and set out to find her way back.

She had arrived back first, seven days later, with her colleagues arriving back a day later. It had been a lucky find when she had come across the deer, as the deer tracks had led her onto the right path.

She glanced down at the map and saw that across from the woods, about three miles away, was a road that led to the road that she had been on before The Governor had stumbled across her. She decided that she probably should stay in the woods for the night, knowing that if he or his men were trailing her, they wouldn't assume she had headed into the woods, and continued to track the roads. She looked upwards towards the sky and saw that it was darkening quicker than expected, and surmised that she had about an hour of daylight left before night was upon her. She had to find some sort of shelter for the night, and had less than an hour to find it.

A twig snapping behind her caused her to stop. It was a distance away from her but the fact that she had heard it, the sound travelling to her ears, meant that something or someone was not that far away. Whether it was a straggler, an animal or a person - another survivor - was unknown. The world was a quiet place now, and the silence was welcomed in a way that had never been accepted before. Any sound signalled a threat now. The silence the world had been engulfed in was welcome, and spoke volumes. If the world was silent, and quiet, then it was safe. It was a strange transition but one that Anna was used to.

As quietly as she could, Anna made her way to the large tree in the centre of the surrounding area, and hid behind it. The vastness of the trunk swallowed up her body, and she pressed her back towards the sharpness of the bark. She strained to hear the sounds that the woodland had to offer. Nothing was untoward. And it was then that she heard it.

Heavy boots making their way through the woodland. Despite the sound of the boots on being loud, she was able to distinguish that it wasn't a straggler. Stragglers dragged their decaying bodies, as if their legs were giving way, and that all their strength went onto keeping themselves upwards and moving. The sounds of branches and leaves being walked through could be heard, and she held her breath. Pulling her knife out, she waited with bated breath.

Michonne was right. No one left Woodbury.

It all happened as quick as a flash, and before Anna knew it, she had caught a glimpse of the intruder and was tackling him to the ground. They both landed with a thud, and Anna wrestled with the man. The man squirmed underneath her and whilst wrestling with her, he was able to turn himself around. Anna furrowed her brow as Merle's face came into view. She pulled the knife up and put it to his throat.

"Why are you following me?"

"Girl, ya strong," Merle said, struggling underneath her. "I'll give ya that!"

"Why are you following me?" Anna repeated.

"If ya get off me, I'll tell ya."

Anna stared at him as he continued to struggle beneath her. He was older than her, by at least twenty years but there was something about him. She couldn't put her finger on it, but he wasn't like Philip. With Philip, he offered a cold side. One that, if crossed, you'd know about it. But Merle, he wasn't always cold. He had a good side.

Anna slowly got off of him, her narrowed stare being the only thing remaining on him. He got up, and brushed himself off. He tipped his head back and laughed. Anna raised an eyebrow. Her eyes flirted with the rifle laid upon the ground.

"Ya had me good there, girl."

"Don't call me girl."

Merle glanced at her and smirked. "Alrigh' sweetheart."

"Don't call me sweetheart, either."

"Jeez," Merle began. "Ya hard to please, ain't ya?"

"Not really," Anna said. "Just don't like assholes calling me names."

Merle chuckled, but Anna didn't return it. The friendly banter between them was never going to happen, and Merle knew that if he pushed it, he'd end up going back to Woodbury with a knife in his eye.

"You here to kill me?" Anna asked, cutting straight to the point. Merle was slightly taken aback at her smartness. The Governor had messed with the wrong one, he thought.

"Ya smart," Merle said. "And ya'd be correct."

"Are you like him?" Anna asked, and narrowed her eyes at him as if trying to figure out the answer for herself.

Merle shook his head, but gave no answer.

"I thought so. You don't seem to be the type of person to kill without a reason, unlike so many people in this world now. Why do you follow everything that he tells you to do? Scared?"

"I ain't scared of no one, _girl_."

"Looks it," Anna said, smirking. "You gonna kill me?"

"No."

"Disobeying an order from your boss? That's going to cost you, big time."

Merle shrugged. "Don't have to tell him that I let ya go. Can say that I killed ya, watched as the life left ya. As long as ya stay away from Woodbury, ya just a memory to us all."

"How lovely," Anna said. "Really, I'm touched."

"Ya should be. He's out to get ya. He'll have my balls on the chopping board if he knew I let ya go," Merle joked, despite him knowing that if The Governor ever found out that he hadn't disposed of Anna the way he wanted him to, he'd be in deep trouble. "But, I don't know why he wants ya dead. Ya eyes give so much away, girl."

Anna let the 'girl' name go, but she froze at his comment. It was true; a person could be the toughest person in the world, but one thing that would give them away would be their eyes. The pain, the suffering, the love for people and fear were all evident in their eyes. Eyes were the windows to the soul, no doubt about it.

"Ya've seen things we ain't seen," Merle continued. "Ya were in the army?"

"Still am," Anna said, quietly.

Merle nodded, and extended his arm out to her. "It's a pleasure. I was in the army, too."

She hesitated for a moment but then extended her arm out, and shook his hand. "If the circumstances were different then I'd hug you."

"Ha!" Merle chuckled. "Not many women could resist these charms. I miss them banging down my do-"

But before Merle could finish his sentence, a loud scream pierced through the surrounding woods like a crack of lightening. And the both of them set off at a speed towards the sound.


	11. Lost

_Chapter Ten_

_Lost_

The hordes of walkers had come out of nowhere, surrounding her as if she was a vulnerable animal and the dead were predators. Predators would surround hunt their prey, catching its scent and tracking it, often attacking it to weaken the animal. Once they had the prey surrounded, they would then either kill the prey or take it back to the area they were inhabiting then kill it. Once the killing was over, with the predator getting the upper hand with two sharp teeth to the throat, the predator would then devour the lifeless form of the prey. She had learned about it when she was home schooled by her mother.

_Mommy._

She had only ever been away from her mother a handful of times, before and after the dead started rising, and she had never liked the idea of being too far away from her mom. Sophia was a nervous child, and worried about things that were out of her control. She could only assume that she had inherited it from her mother, Carol, as her father was the opposite. He was laid-back and didn't care about what the world threw at him. He was selfish in the sense that he only thought of himself, as long as he was fine then that was all that mattered. It was a long time since they had left the Quarry and she had last seen him. Her mother had told her that he was gone, that he was no longer alive, and Sophia was surprised that she wasn't affected by his death.

The moans were getting louder and the decaying faces of the dead were just inches away. She didn't have a weapon, she couldn't protect herself. She was going to die. As tears filled her eyes, she tried to look for a gap between their legs but they were closing in on her. Sophia turned around looking at the faces of the dead; each one of them had a story, a family, and had hope that the world would be restored, just like she had.

She took a deep, shaky breath in, closed her eyes and thought of her mother.

* * *

She had left them for five minutes. Carl had suggested playing a board game to take their mind off of Glenn just for a little while. She had agreed, and Carol had gone to collect the board game from the cell that was used as storage of the things that had been collected over the past few weeks. She was gone for less than five minutes, and when she had come back to the main area, the children were gone. Her initial thought was that the two of them were playing a game of hide and seek, but something was wrong. Sophia's doll, the one given to her by the daughter of the Morales family and which never strayed too far from her, was lying atop the table they had been sat at.

A sob escaped her mouth, and she called out their names. But she never heard them giggle, or move about, hidden by the thick concrete walls. She searched for them, checking every cell just in case they had sharpened up their hiding skills. But when she was welcomed with empty cells, she made her way out, as quickly as her feet would take her, and she ran towards Lori and Rick who were talking near the first set of gates. Her feet felt heavy, her head felt fuzzy and she felt sick. Lori turned towards her with a furrowed brow and asked her if she was okay.

"The children…" she began. "They've gone." "What do you mean they've gone?" Lori asked. Rick placed his hands on his hips, as he took in the scared tone of Carol.

"We were talking, and then Carl suggested we play a board game to get our mind off of Glenn. So I went to get it, and when I came back, they were gone. Sophia's doll was lying on the table, she never leaves anywhere without it," Carol sobbed, clinging onto the doll. "They must be around here somewhere. They know the dangers of stepping outside," Rick said, whistling over towards Daryl who was coming out of the infirmary, and took off to speak with him.

"We'll look around the prison for them, they can't have gone off that far," Lori said, although she knew what Carl was like. He never listened to her and often went on little adventures without her knowing, only to be found by T-Dog or Daryl on his way back to the main area of the prison.

"We'll find them," Lori whispered, despite knowing the answer already. It was only a matter of time before something fatal would happen. And the shift in the atmosphere seemed to confirm her fears.

* * *

She thought of her mother, and of all the times when she felt scared and woke up screaming after a nightmare to find her mother by her side, enveloping her into a protective and reassuring hug. Before the dead started walking, she spent the majority of her time with her mom, and she enjoyed it. She was a shy child, and always needed her mother to be close to her in order for her to feel safe. And when the dead became undead, her fears of being away from her mother amplified and became an irrational fear. It was dangerous, straying too far away from family. And in this new world, the harsh reality of that was happening now.

She should never have listened to Carl, when he suggested going out and finding the plant he'd overheard Hershel talking about with Rick and Daryl that would help Glenn. She should never have agreed to venture out of the prison, and into the big bad world. It was not made her scared little girls, like herself. She only wanted to help Glenn, but she'd fallen behind Carl and he was nowhere to be seen. Her knee stung, and she could only guess that she had ripped her leggings. She heard more footsteps and she assumed that more had joined them, ready to rip her open. A sob escaped her mouth and she waited. A distance away, she could hear subtle thuds but when nothing happened she clamped her eyes shut even tighter. She didn't want to see the monsters that were going to take her away from her mother.

A yelp filled her ears, and she shuddered as it came from behind her. There was a crack, as if something had been hit, and she opened her eyes just a little bit. As soon as she opened her eyes, another thud sounded, as something dropped the ground. A soft gasp left her mouth.

"Sophia?" A gruff voice, one that seemed familiar to her, filled her ears. "That you?"

She kept her eyes shut, and shivered with fear. She heard a woman speaking just a little distance away from her, and found her voice soothing and calm. It was like her mothers, but there was a hint of an accent that she was unsure of.

"Hey… Sophia?" The woman whispered, inching closer towards her. "That's a pretty name. I wish I had a name like that."

Silence filled her ears, and she questioned whether what she was hearing was real or her imagination. Her mother always told her that she had an imagination unlike many others, where worlds could be created and worlds could be torn apart.

"It's alright," the woman said. "You're safe now, Sophia."

Sophia felt her fear disappear, as soon as she felt gentle almost timid hands wrap themselves around her small wrists in an attempt to reassure her. A thumb was stroking the inside of her wrist. She slowly opened her eyes, and saw, as the sun was fading in the distance, a woman surrounded by a halo of light.


	12. Still

Author's note: Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, favourited and alerted this story. It means a lot! I apologise for the delay, that old thing called life got in the way.

* * *

_Chapter Eleven_

_Still_

Hershel bolted into the room as soon as he had heard Maggie scream, and found that Glenn's condition had deteriorated to a point where his future was uncertain. He'd been able to extract the fragments of the bullet, but no matter what he did, Glenn wouldn't respond to his attempts to keep him stable. He moved over to the table that Glenn was laid upon and found that his face was pale and cold to touch. His breathing was rapid, as if he had just run a marathon. Something wasn't right, and Hershel could only guess what was happening.

"You need to keep him flat," Hershel said to Maggie. His daughter stared at him with wide eyes. "Don't let him move his head."

As Maggie held Glenn down and tried to keep his head still, Hershel checked his mouth for vomit or blood. He felt his heart sank as a small trickle of blood came from the left side of his mouth.

"We need to put him on his side," Hershel said. "Grab those blankets over there while I hold him down, and fold them up."

"Daddy, what's happening to him?" Maggie asked, fear coating her words. She moved from the bed and raced back with the blankets, folding them up as she made her way back.

Hershel remained silent, unable to get the words out. It was difficult to even think about, let alone say out loud. As soon as he said it out loud, it would make it real, and he didn't want to upset Maggie further, for she was young and in love with the man who was currently losing his fight for survival.

"Daddy!"

Hershel glanced at his daughter, who was desperate and sad, and bit his lip. "He's gone into shock."

That was all Hershel had to say as Maggie nodded, wiping away her tears and taking a deep breath. He stared at her, and it was as if she knew. She was staring at Glenn, and Hershel could only assume that she was either telling him to keep fighting or was saying her goodbyes. Glenn was not in a good position, where his life was hanging by a thread. Extracting the fragments of the bullet was the easy part, keeping Glenn alive and breathing was the tricky and hardest part of all. It was all up to Glenn now. Was he well enough to keep clinging onto the sinking ship?

They moved his head to the side, and waited.

"Check his mouth for blood," Hershel said, and Maggie nodded and checked.

"There's a little bit of blood."

Hershel nodded, and with clean hands, pulled back the bandage that was on Glenn's chest. The bleeding had stopped hours before, but the whiteness of the bandage was dotted with blood. The wound looked good, despite the rawness of the skin, but there was blood seeping out of the wound.

"We're going to need to stop the flow of blood," Hershel began, apply pressure to the wound.

The both of them worked on Glenn, ensuring that enough pressure was being put onto the wound without causing him harm. The bleeding started to slow down.

Hershel glanced at Maggie. "Check that cabinet for medicine. If there's any Dopamine, grab that."

Maggie searched the cabinet but to no success. She moved towards the drawers, checking the labels as she scanned through it. She found three vials of Dopamine, among other medicines.

"Bring it over," Hershel said, then pointed towards a drawer next to him. "There should be needles somewhere in that drawer."

As Maggie brought over the vials of Dopamine and unused needles, Hershel quickly opened the needle packet and injected the vial, sucking up the liquid and tapping the side of the needle. The needle pierced Glenn's thin and pale skin, and he waited. After a few moments, Glenn's body became still. Hershel checked to see if the young man was breathing, and breathed a sigh of relief when he felt a faint exhale of warm breath on his cheek.

"Dopamine will allow his blood pressure to increase, as well as the blood being pumped around his heart. It will keep him out of the woods for a while," Hershel explained. "We'll add pressure if we need to but the Dopamine should help him more than we can at the moment."

Maggie nodded, and Hershel could tell that she wasn't listening to him. Her eyes were fixed on Glenn, as silent tears fell from her eyes and landed, like raindrops, upon Glenn's bare arms. She knew that there was only so much they could do to help Glenn, but how many times would be enough? His body was weak, and they didn't have the equipment needed to keep him alive. She knew that there was only one thing to do, and that was to pray. She had lost faith, but it was all she had now. She needed to pray and wait; for him to wake, or for him to take his last breath.


	13. Foundling

Author's Note: Apologies for the huge delay, life got in the way!

* * *

_Chapter Twelve_

_Foundling_

She was just a little girl, with short brown hair that rested just under her ears, and was pale, almost sickly. The expression on her face was one that would remain with Anna until she took her last breath. The girl was terrified and shaking with fear, like a small puppy terrified of the big world outside. She felt a tug at her own heart, and saw the resemblance between the little girl and herself when she was at that age. A haunting image of a lost little girl, but unlike the memory of her being lost, Sophia had been found.

The scene that had unfolded in front of them had terrified her: a young girl surrounded by the dead, and hungrily grasping at her. As Merle and herself had fought against the dead, talking both sides in order to protect the little girl, Anna had believed that they were too late. The girl had to have been bitten, but she was smart. She remained quiet, despite emotion and fear coursing through her young body.

"Sophia?" Merle had said, causing Anna to glance at him with a furrowed brow. "That you?"

Merle looked as if he had seen a ghost, and she quickly assumed that he must have known her. How, was the question on her lips. Was she a member of Woodbury? She remained silent however, watching as the girl shivered with uncontrollable shock and fear. The little girl - Sophia - kept her eyes closed.

"Do you know her?" Anna whispered to Merle. He tore his eyes away from the little girl and nodded. He was afraid that if he looked back in the direction of Sophia that he would find that she was a figment of his imagination, that the scream he had heard was just a whisper in the wind.

Anna glanced back at Sophia, and approached her slowly. She didn't want to startle her. That was the last thing she wanted to do. She knelt down in front of the girl so that she was at the same level of height.

"Hey... Sophia?" Anna whispered, to which the little girl slowly nodded. "That's a pretty name. I wish I had a name like that."

Sophia never made a sound, and despite the small nod that the girl had made, Merle feared he was still imagining it all. Anna glanced back at him and shrugged, seeing the fear in his eyes.

"It's alright," Anna continued. "You're safe now, Sophia."

She reached for the little girl, and gently wrapped her hand around Sophia's wrist. Sophia was trapped in fear, and the only way to bring her out of the abyss of irrational fear was to bring her back manually. The stroking of her wrist was something that Anna would do when her own fears got the better of her, it was soothing and comforting. It was at that moment in which Sophia opened her eyes, and green whirlpools met her own blue ones.

"Hey..." Anna whispered gently.

"Hi..." Sophia replied, her voice small and quivering with anxiety.

"You had us scared for the second time there," Anna smirked, and a hint of a smile formed on Sophia's face.

Sophia glanced at the man standing awkwardly behind Anna and her eyes grew wide. She hadn't seen him in months, when he had travelled into the city of Atlanta with other group members. He never came back, and was never spoken about again. She could see the pain in Daryl's eyes whenever he mentioned his brothers name, but he held it together. She was good at reading people, just like her mother.

"Merle?" Sophia asked, to which Merle nodded with a small smirk.

Sophia smiled with tears in her eyes as her eyes skimmed across his face. It was the only familiar face she knew, and for that, she was grateful. She wanted to run up to him and throw her arms around him, but she knew what Merle could be like. She was always told to stay away from him as he was deemed irresponsible and rude.

"It's been a long time, ain't it, sweetheart?" Merle said. Sophia nodded. "Why ya in the woods? Where's ya mom?"

"She's at the prison," Sophia sobbed. "I should never have followed after him."

Merle furrowed his brow. The prison had been the one that had been brought up in the conversation he and Phillip had spoken about. It wasn't that far from Woodbury, and from the look of it, it seemed empty. Was this the same one Sophia spoke about? Merle frowned.

"What prison?"

Anna was the one who spoke, and he found that he had lost his voice. Was his brother at the prison? Was Daryl alive? She stepped forward, hobbling slightly as he remembered that she had injured her leg tackling a Biter that was closing in on Sophia from behind. She was covered in blood, and didn't seem fazed by it.

Sophia pointed towards the endless abyss of woodland. Anna followed her pointing finger and sighed. Merle bit his lip and ran a hand through his short hair. He needed to get back to Woodbury, and the sky was darkening. Anna glanced at him and nodded, as if she knew what he was thinking. He didn't want to leave, but he had no choice. The Governor would be sending his men out to search for him.

"Sophia," Merle said softly, bending down to her height. "I'm gonna leave ya in the safe hands of Anna, okay? She's real nice and will keep ya safe. She's gonna take ya back to the prison, and I need ya to go with her, okay?"

"Aren't you coming?" Sophia whispered. Merle shook his head.

"I'm gonna be right behind ya, okay?" said Merle, offering a reassuring smile. "I need ya to do a few things then I'll be with ya, yeah?"

Sophia nodded and slipped her hand into Anna's, who gently jumped at the feeling. Merle smiled but never ushered a word. He could see from the way Anna's body tensed up that she was uncomfortable around children, just like he was.

"Tell me one thing, Sophia," Merle began, to which she nodded. "Is my brother alive?"

There was a moment before Sophia grinned and nodded. "Yeah, he's at the prison."

Merle gave a wobbly smile and his eyes became glassy. He stood up, ruffling her hair. "Thank you..."

He turned to Anna and handed her his rifle. "Ya gonna need this. I saw him take ya ammunition. Don't shoot-"

"Unless I need to. Got it."

"The prison ain't far from here. Thirty minutes or so. Keep going left, until ya come to a ditch of water and a small bridge. You protect her with ya life, got that?"

Anna gave a stern nod. Merle gave one last nod towards Anna, and a wink in Sophia's direction, before turning around and disappearing through the thick branches. Once he was gone, Anna felt a flutter of fear in her heart. She wasn't used to being around children. Even though she was a young child many years ago, it had been just her. She was an only child. That was all she needed, the one person she trusted was herself.

They walked, in silence, for ten minutes. The fading sunlight was something Anna was beginning to feel uncomfortable with. She was fine with it, as she was used to it, but the girl... Sophia, was not. She could feel the little girl shaking as the sounds of things unknown within the woods crept out into the darkness.

Anna was on guard, with the rifle that Merle had given to her in her hand and aimed at the darkness. She glanced down at the girl. "So... Why are you out here in the woods?"

"I can't remember," mumbled Sophia, giving a little yelp as a crow cawed in the distance.

"We'll get you back," Anna replied. "I prom-"

The click of a handgun behind them brought Anna to a halt. She felt the little girl cling to her and she raised the rifle into the air. Anna tried to keep her breathing under control, but there was always that tiny shiver that ran down her back at the thought of being taken out and shot without seeing the face of the person pulling the trigger.

With Sophia held close to her body with her eyes closed, she turned around slowly whilst holding her breath. But what she didn't expect to see was a young boy holding the gun and wearing a sheriff's hat.


End file.
